The Omega's Cyborg
by WillSherJohnKhan
Summary: Which will win the battle, the machine or the man?
1. A Brief History

ALTERNATE REALITY – FORESEABLE FUTURE

The Earth's history was always one of conflict. It began when the planet came into being; the addition of life forms only increased the number and frequency. While the advancements in science, though performed to enhance the lives of those living on this small, blue planet sometimes had the opposite effect. This would lead ultimately to all out war.

The Earth was a planet dominated by Alphas, Betas and Omegas. On the whole the system worked very well and everyone lived in relative harmony.

The dominant Alphas who were predominantly male had their pick of the submissive, predominantly female Omegas. While the Betas in equally male and female preferred finding a mate within their own kind.

But when population growth in the Alpha and Omega population suddenly spiked, the Earth's leaders turned to its scientists to find a solution.

These scientists developed an oral suppressant for the Alphas to rein in their dominant need to inseminate Omegas.

But because not enough time was given to test the drug, with pressure being applied to get it into the Alpha population as quickly as possible, complications only became apparent once it had been administered.

The drug almost wiped out the Alpha population, reducing it to one in ten to the Omega population.

Ten percent of the Alpha population the suppressant had no effect on. Twenty percent became sterile. And to be an Alpha and not being able to reproduce caused insanity, many choosing to commit suicide. Seventy percent died, due to breathing difficulties or multiple organ failure.

Emotions ran high. The scientists tried everything they could to reverse what they had done, but nothing worked. Tensions grew.

In this time of despair came a dark knight, in the form of The Moriarty Moran Corporation.

James Moriarty and Sebastian Moran were both Alphas, but neither was ruled by his libido. They were ruled by a more materialistic need, to make money. Lots of money.

They had made their fortune by creating Cyborgs. The First Generation Cyborgs were completely mechanical but made in human form. Though they possessed a human shape they had no skin, hair or teeth. They were a metal skeleton that could communicate with an electronic voice. But they could only speak when spoken to. They were built to perform hard labour, and to work in areas deemed too dangerous for humans.

The Moriarty Moran Corporation seized on the opportunity that presented itself to them.

They proposed to start work on a Second Generation Cyborg, one that was a mix of human and machine. Their purpose to 'service' the overwhelming Omega population.

At first the population as a whole was rightly horrified by such a proposition.

But Moriarty and Moran gradually won over the population when they promised that the Cyborgs would be unable to impregnate the Omegas, or bond with them.

It wasn't the best of solutions, but it was the only one being offered.

The Second Generation Cyborgs certainly looked human. They were big and strong, like body builders. The difference between them and humans however was very evident. Their skin was grey, their eyes were red and all were bald with their designation number, as opposed to a name, tattooed on their heads.

Initially the plan worked well. But as time went by certain character traits became more and more prevalent in the second generation.

They were incredibly strong, as you would expect in a being that is part machine and part man. But they quickly became arrogant, territorial and fiercely jealous of any Alpha who dared to even glance at an Omega.

Add to this as time went on and their intelligence grew, a seething frustration and sense of unjust treatment and betrayal swept through them once they realised that although they could service Omegas like Alphas, they were sterile.

This realisation flipped a switch in their mechanical brains that saw them become increasingly aggressive and violent towards the Omegas.

The reduced Alpha population, with the aid of the Beta's went into battle to defend the defenceless Omega population.

But they were too few, and the Cyborgs too strong.

It was a bloodbath. There was no other way to describe it.

Casualties were many, though it could have been far worse. The Cyborgs allowed the surviving Alphas and Betas to live, on condition the remaining Alphas relinquish their rights to the Omega population. This they readily agreed to.

Among the list of the missing, presumed dead were three prominent Alphas Charles Augustus Magnussen, Mycroft Holmes and his young brother, Sherlock.

It is at this point that out story begins…


	2. Something New

THE APPLEDORE INSTALLATION

In the bowels of a secret laboratory, an experiment is taking shape.

James Moriarty and Sebastian Moran are very close to completing what they hope will be the perfect solution to combat the volatile and unpredictable problem that the Second Generation Cyborg has become.

They do not do this out of any sense of duty towards the Earth's population. Their primary concern as always has been about looking after number one and two.

They barely escaped with their lives when their main factory was stormed by the cyborgs. They had become the prime target of their fury once they'd discovered their sterility.

But Moriarty and Moran were survivors. And the main reason why they had been able to amass fortune on top of fortune was because they always had an exit strategy in case anything went wrong.

They also had a spider's web of networks that kept a close ear for any type of information, large or small that they could use to their advantage.

This was how they learnt that Charles Augustus Magnussen, the master blackmailer had escaped the Earth. He'd fled off world on the first available spacecraft, taking with him only the information he had gathered on certain individuals (including Moriarty and Moran) that he hoped to use as leverage when he felt it was safe to return to Earth.

But by far the most important piece of information they had acquired on Magnussen was the location of his secret installation known as Appledore.

With their own factories in ruins, it was the perfect place to continue their work, while keeping themselves completely hidden from unfriendly forces.

"Who would have thought revenge could be so sweet," Moran said, barely containing his glee.

"Indeed," Moriarty agreed as he gave their latest creation the once over with a critical eye. "The dragon slayer, enslaved in his own personal hell."

"Couldn't have happened to a more deserving candidate." Moran noted with satisfaction.

Both men were standing in front of a glass box 10x2000x875mm.

Inside the box was Sherlock Holmes, or what used to be the man that was known by that name.

Now he just stood completely silent, staring unseeingly straight ahead. No expression at all on his face.

Moriarty stepped right up to the box, pressing his face against the glass. "If you still had free will Sherlock, I'm certain you would appreciate the irony of your current situation. A man who lived only for pure logic now gets that opportunity in the fullest sense of the word," he paused and turned to his companion. "But then again he was always more machine-like when he was just an ordinary alpha. Being a cybernetic being probably doesn't feel any different."

Both men burst into fits of unrestrained laughter.

Moran finally got himself under control wiping tears out of his eyes he took Moriarty's place, looking the Sherlock cyborg in the eye. "But that's why we added the extra enhancements was it not?" he said as he turned back to his partner-in-crime.

"Very specific enhancements Sherlock," Moriarty chortled happily. "The type that are set to annoy and frustrate you on so many levels."

"Of course this is all done for the betterment of humankind," Moran insisted, turning back to the motionless Sherlock. "Since your predecessors have turned out to be more trouble then they're worth, we needed a volunteer that we could test our new enhancements on."

"You were the perfect subject Sherlock," Moriarty added. "A man who refused to acknowledge or act upon his more baser urges, has now as a Third Generation Cyborg been given the ability to connect with those very raw emotions."

"A cyborg that can inseminate omegas, who as a human was never interested in the act." Moran laughed softly. "You're in for a bumpy ride."

"Just so," Moriarty agreed.

The stench of rotting bodies was everywhere. The main battle may have been over, but skirmishes continued.

It was dark and cold, and raining heavily. Molly Hooper had no idea where she was, other than somewhere in the country and near the sea.

She pulled her cardigan closer around her and checked that her shoulder bag was securely closed. The last thing she needed was for its contents to get wet.

Molly was an omega, but she used a secretly made suppressant that made her register as beta.

She had seen what had happened to other omegas at the hands of the brutish cyborgs. Many were left psychologically or physically damaged, if they were lucky.

Those that didn't survive suffered terrible injuries, usually internal, and their deaths were very slow and very painful.

The Underground Network was a rebel group that had organised itself as soon as The Moriarty Moran Corporation introduced the second-generation cyborgs. They hadn't trusted that the company would take all reasonable precautions. They feared the company was more concerned with how much money it could make.

And they had been proved right.

It was they who had created the suppressant Molly used. And they were the one's who continued to attack the cyborgs. They kept moving their bases of operations, somehow managing to keep one step ahead of the cyborgs. They were proving to be a nuisance to them, but knew they needed to do a lot more if they were going to win in the end.

Molly had managed to escape the latest outbreaks of violence, managing to slip away making her way on foot.

It certainly wasn't a safe option. A small female on her own and it didn't matter whether she was an omega or a beta; she was on her own, completely unprotected. But it was her only option, and she had become very adept at keeping off the radar, so far managing to remain undetected.

When lightening suddenly flashed in the sky she jumped in fright, losing her footing and falling backwards through a door hidden in the undergrowth.

She made her way down a series of tunnels. Progress was slow because she was in complete darkness.

After awhile Molly felt certain that she must be wandering around in circles. But as she turned a corner saw a light in the distance.

Drawn to the light like a moth to the flame, she was for once thankful of her skittish omega nature that still seeped through the suppressants effects, though muted they urged her to go cautiously.

As Molly reached what was now clearly an open door she became aware of male voices from within.

Slipping inside the room she made her way with silent steps over to where the men were talking. Making sure to always stay in the shadows.

Moriarty opened the door to the glass box and entered. He walked around Sherlock until he stood directly behind him. "Now," he all but purred. "Time to put the final touches on our little toy."

Molly couldn't see what he did, as from where he stood he blocked her view completely.

So with great daring she crept closer. When as close as she dared she crouched down behind an array of empty boxes that had been emptied of all sorts of equipment.

"A flick of the switch and hey presto, he's alive."

Molly heard the faintest 'click', as though something was being closed. Then the man, who she suddenly recognised as James Moriarty exited the box. She had to stifle a gasp when she realised that Moriarty and his partner Moran were holding a man captive in that little glass cell.

Moriarty and Moran could barely contain their glee as the cyborg blinked its eyes and turned its head slowly to take in its surroundings.

Moriarty let out an overly dramatic yawn. "Well I don't know about you," he said to the cyborg. "But I've had a very busy day and I need to get some shut eye."

Moran added with a self-satisfied smirk as both men prepared to leave. "You better get your beauty sleep Sherlock. Tomorrow the real fun and games begin."

Only when Molly was absolutely certain that the men were far away and not likely to return did she emerge from her hiding place.

Glancing down into one of the empty boxes she spotted some clothes, trousers, jacket, purple shirt, socks, shoes and a long, heavy coat.

Quickly she collected them up and made her way over to the man in the cell.

As she made her way to the front of the glass box a number of things became clear.

She knew he was naked, she'd already seen him from the back where she'd noted how slender, yet strong he appeared.

But seeing him from the front, and up close took her breath away.

He was beautiful to behold, there was simply no other way to describe him. Alabaster skin, black curly hair, cupids bow lips and eyes that changed from blue to green depending on the light.

Though slender he was nonetheless powerfully built, a nice chest with a scattering of hair, long legs built for running, beautifully formed hands and feet. As her eyes moved back up his body, she felt her cheeks flush as she noted how well endowed he was.

He was all alpha.

And then something clicked in her brain as she reviewed what Moriarty and Moran had said about their prisoner, and she let out an audible gasp.

'Of course!' The man in front of her was the world famous consulting detective, Sherlock Holmes.

Her gasp alerted him to her presence. He turned his head, his eyes locked on her, observing her intently. His gaze took in every detail of her petite form.

She felt like a rabbit, hypnotised by the bright headlights of an oncoming car.

After he had completed his all too thorough inspection, he tiled his head to the side inquiringly.

Molly worried her lower lip as she wondered if he was aware of what had been done to him.

The vulnerability in his gaze was what finally gave her the courage to unlock the door to his prison.

He immediately stepped out and Molly handed him his clothes. He looked down at them, then back at Molly. "Thank you," he said.

"You're welcome," she replied automatically.

When he didn't immediately begin to put them on, Molly said. "You need to get dressed," and she indicated the clothes he held.

"Why?'

Molly was a little taken aback by his response, but quickly realised he was probably still adapting to being cyborg.

"Because we need to get out of here," she replied.

To her immense relief he put up no further argument and proceeded to dress.

Now fully clothed Sherlock spent a moment assessing and cataloguing their surroundings.

Without warning his whole focus was fully on Molly. His pupils were enlarged as he took a deep breath. "You're an Omega."

Molly shook her head violently, clutching her bag of suppressants to her like a shield. "No. I'm a Beta."

Sherlock took another deep breath. "Definitely omega." He then leant down so that they were eye-to-eye. Molly could see the blue/green of his iris's were barely visible, and his breathing pattern was increasing. He glanced down at her bag, before returning his intense gaze to her face. "Your suppressants don't work on me little omega."

Abruptly he stepped away from her and headed towards the door she'd come through.

Molly whimpered, uncertain if it was in disappointment, or relief.

"This way my little omega." Sherlock called over his shoulder.

It was not a request.

Meekly Molly followed.


	3. Escape to London

APPLEDORE TUNNELS

Molly did her best to keep up with Sherlock's longer stride. As she stumbled through the darkness her thoughts were in chaos.

Could she trust him? He was a cyborg after all.

Did he know what he was now? She was almost certain that he didn't.

How would he react when he found out?

She stopped in her tracks, how would he react indeed. And what would he do…?

Molly had just turned, intending to go back the way she came when Sherlock's rich, if somewhat impatient baritone had her frozen in mid turn.

"Why have you stopped?"

Molly turned back, to find him standing right in front of her, illuminating her face with the torch he kept in his coat. He peered down intently at her, clearly awaiting her response.

For her part, Molly was once again overwhelmed by his presence, and not just her reaction to him as an omega. Her gaze lingered on his full lips, his aristocratic nose, his beautifully sculptured cheekbones, and those incredible eyes.

Eyes that were clearly demanding a response to his unanswered enquiry.

Molly had to do some very quick thinking. She dare not broach the real reason. She chose to deflect rather than answer.

"How is it you're able to navigate your way through these tunnels?"

"Not that difficult," he replied. "I'm simply following your scent."

Even though he'd already proved contrary, Molly still tried. "But that's impossible," she argued in vain. "Other alphas can't sense me."

As he'd done in the lab, Sherlock invaded her personal space, leaning down he murmured in her ear. "I'm not most alpha's."

He straightened, turned and continued making his way down the tunnel. "The way you got in is just around the corner. Do hurry up."

Molly let out a resigned sigh. A cyborg he may now be. But he was still full alpha.

Molly took a deep breath. It was a relief to be out of those horrible tunnels. She wasn't one for confined spaces, she hated seeing anything caged…

She glanced over at Sherlock who was currently striding about, trying to decide the best direction to go.

The rain at least had stopped and for that Molly was grateful.

"I'm Molly by the way," she said as Sherlock strode past her. "Molly Hooper, in case you're interested."

Sherlock stopped and looked at her. She could almost see the cogs and wheels whirling inside his head as he tried to process how he should respond to her statement.

In the end he decided on. "I'm Sherlock Holmes."

"Yes I know."

He nodded towards the direction he had decided on. "We need to go that way."

"Where are we heading?"

"I need to get to London," he replied.

Molly's face went deathly pale. London was the one place that she most definitely did not want to go. She'd barely escaped with her life. Going back was simply not an option.

She could see the determination on his face. He clearly knew the dangers, or no longer feared them. Whatever the case, he'd just given her the perfect excuse to part company.

"Well if you want to get there by nightfall you'd better start now."

Sherlock looked at her curiously. "Yes, we will."

Molly shook her head adamantly. "Sorry, but you're on your own."

When she moved past him, Sherlock gripped her firmly by the upper arm and marched her in the direction of London. "No my little omega, you're coming with me."

Molly struggled, but it was simply impossible to escape his firm hold. Part of her was pleased, dangerous as it was she was drawn to him. She'd heard the stories about what it was like to find your one true mate. That was how this felt. But with him being a cyborg that was impossible. She could only hope that even though her suppressants had no affect on him, that they would at the very least inhibit her from going into heat.

With so many emotions churning inside her, Molly decided to go with petulant to mask her true turmoil.

"Why did I bother rescuing you?" she muttered under her breath.

Of course he heard her.

"You didn't rescue me."

"I didn't," she responded with surprise. "Then what did I do?"

He turned, looked down at her, the barest trace of a smile on his lips. "You kidnapped me."

Molly stopped, causing Sherlock to do likewise. He lifted an enquiring eyebrow.

"If I've kidnapped you, why aren't you resisting?" she asked somewhat perplexed.

"I'm… curious."

"Curious about what?"

He looked deeply into her big brown eyes. "You."

LONDON

London was in ruins. It had been the focal point for some of the most intense fighting.

As with just about every other place they'd seen, Sherlock and Molly encountered death and destruction everywhere.

Debris littered the streets, as did bodies, left where they had fallen. And as with any disaster looters had been busy, grabbing anything they could get their hands on.

Sherlock shielded Molly from as much of it as he could.

He guided her swiftly down Baker St., keeping a firm hold of her hand as he kept an eye out for any potential danger.

When they reached a door with 221B on it, he let out an audible sigh of relief. Reaching into his jacket pocket he pulled out a key unlocked the door and led Molly inside.

Molly sat quietly on the sofa in Sherlock's flat.

There was no power, which wasn't surprising. But they did for the time being at least have running water.

Sherlock had gone to his landlady, Mrs Hudson's flat to see if he could find any candles.

Molly was relieved to have a little time to herself, she needed to consider what had happened since escaping Appledore.

She found as time went by that she grew more at ease with Sherlock. There had been a number of occasions when she completely forgot that he was a cyborg.

But just as they approached the outskirts of London he'd begun suffering intense headaches. He would drop to his knees, holding his head and groaning in agony.

She knew it had to be his body either fighting or adjusting to his new enhancements.

With nothing to relieve the pain they'd simply had to stop wherever they were and wait each episode out.

The only solution they had found, they discovered by accident.

One episode had been so strong that Molly insisted Sherlock lay down with his head on her lap. No sooner had he rested his head than she gave in to an impulse. She began combing her fingers through his hair. Within moments he was fast asleep.

Since then he'd become more protective of her.

But she still worried. How would he feel when his memories of what Moriarty and Moran did to him returned?

At that moment Sherlock walked back into the flat. He triumphantly carried a couple of candles and a box of matches.

Both were exhausted. Sherlock went to his bedroom and came back with a pillow and a blanket.

"You're certain you wouldn't prefer my bed?" he asked.

Molly felt her cheeks flush pink.

"The sofa's fine," she quickly replied. "And anyway you wouldn't fit."

Sherlock gave her an odd look then shrugged. He picked up a candle, leaving the other with Molly.

"Goodnight Molly Hooper."

"Goodnight Sherlock."


	4. The Underground Network

APPLEDORE INSTALLATION

"Wakey, wakey Sherlock," Moriarty chortled happily as he entered the lab, ready and eager to play with his new toy.

But his expression quickly turned to rage when he saw the empty glass case. Someone had broken in and stolen his prize.

E17 – WALTHAMSTOW

A stooped figure made his way cautiously down the street. In his right hand was an umbrella, which he used to tap the footpath every now and then, pausing to cock his head to the side and listen intently.

He was just about to cross the street, when he found what he'd been listening for.

"Finally," he muttered under his breath.

He looked around quickly to make sure that he was not being followed or observed. Satisfied he used the umbrella to tap out:

Dot dash dot – R  
Dot – E  
Dash dot dot – D  
Dash dot dot dot – B  
Dot – E  
Dot dash – A  
Dot dash dot – R  
Dash dot dot – D

A moment later a secret door slid silently open revealing a flight of steps that the figure quickly descended.

As soon as he was clear the door closed.

Mycroft Holmes wrinkled his nose with distaste. It was bad enough that he'd had to dress in clothes that he'd usually regard as only fit for a rubbish dump. Now he was forced to make contact with the rebel group set up by his little brother.

'Why couldn't they set up their base of operations somewhere that could at least be loosely described as civilised.'

When the door slid shut he was in complete darkness. But he knew from what Sherlock and his faithful followers had told him, there was always a lamp and matches in easy reach. These he found before making his descent.

The further down he went the more appalling his surroundings became.

But that was the point.

SETTING UP THE UNDERGROUND NETWORK

Sherlock had become immediately suspicious of The MM Corp as soon as they put forward their proposal for a solution to the debacle that was the alpha supplement.

Something didn't feel right.

It wasn't that they hadn't proven themselves more than capable in the field of Cybernetics. Their first generation cyborgs had revolutionised and rejuvenated businesses in all industries.

But those cyborgs had been pure machine, their only purpose to follow specific orders to perform a specific task. Their only resemblance to the human race was that they had been built in human form.

What was now being proposed was to develop cyborgs that were part machine and part man that could function as a human, in this case as an alpha for the purpose of servicing the omegas.

Even for someone as removed from that side of his alpha nature as Sherlock, this posed a number of safety and ethical issues.

When he raised his concerns with the government of the time, he was assured that all possible precautions and safety measures had been taken into consideration.

But given the dire situation they had been in and the need for a quick solution, Sherlock had his doubts. And he feared that as with the alpha suppressant not enough time had been given to do all the necessary tests to cover any given situation.

As omega lives could well be at stake, should anything go wrong, Sherlock felt that this should be the priority for all concerned.

Getting nowhere with the government, he tried to get his concerns heard by The MM Corp. They were after all going to be putting these cyborgs into production.

But all he got out of them was a beautifully put together broacher that was very light on detail.

When they refused to return his calls, he knew there was only one other option. So he hacked into their systems to find the answers he was after.

But The MM Corp had one of the most sophisticated security systems, and he was soon detected.

Only Mycroft's intervention prevented him from serving a long prison sentence.

To get Mycroft, who worked for the government in a minor capacity, to plead his case meant he had to take his older brother into his confidence. He showed Mycroft the information he'd been able to access before he was caught.

They both knew Mycroft couldn't use his position to spy on The MM Corp. So Sherlock became the architect of The Underground Network.

He made sure that what they were doing remained under the radar. They kept track of The MM Corp, and all that they were up to.

All who worked for the network were hand picked by Sherlock. They were people he knew he could trust: John and Mary Watson, Greg Lestrade, Mike Stamford, Sally Donovan and Phillip Anderson.

THE UN BASE

No sooner had Mycroft finished his descent into the bowels of the earth than he found himself surrounded by half a dozen armed men.

"No chance of tea and biscuits then?" Mycroft asked somewhat bemused.

"Not unless you brought some with you," came the familiar voice of Greg Lestrade, formally of New Scotland Yard.

"And if he did you can bet the biscuits will be chocolate," John Watson commented as he and Lestrade approached the older Holmes. "Glad to see the rumours of your death were greatly exaggerated."

Mycroft stood before the assortment of alphas, betas and omegas that had been integral in gathering information that had been secretly passed on to him so that he could get it analysed by experts who had been employed to not ask questions.

It was because of some of their recent intel that had forced Mycroft to seek them out directly.

As his gaze swept over those assembled, he was surprised to see one particular individual.

"I wasn't expecting to see you here," he said.

The woman, one of only a few female alphas walked up to him. "Nor I you, and yet the iceman cometh."

Irene Adler looked over Mycroft's shoulder, clearly expecting to see someone else. Seeing no one, she frowned. "Where's the virgin?"

"Dead," Mycroft replied calmly.

Several of the network's members gasped in shock.

As for Irene, an odd look passed over her face. It may have been called sorrow, but she recovered herself quickly, so it was difficulty to say with any certainty.

"Pity," she murmured. "After all the hard work I put in…"

She turned abruptly and went back to her place in the crowd.

Mycroft watched her curiously, and then dismissed her from his mind as he turned to Lestrade and John. "May we speak in private?"

"Of course," Lestrade responded. "Let's go to my office."

APPLEDORE INSTALLATION

Moriarty was watching the footage from the CCTV cameras that had been placed all around the lab.

"How did she manage to break into such an ultra secure facility like this?" he asked Moran, who had just come back from performing a thorough search of the installation.

"Technically she didn't," he replied.

"What do you mean?"

"It appears she snuck in through an open door."


	5. Trust Issues

221B BAKER STREET

Sherlock was screaming. It was terrible to hear, full of pain, rage and despair.

Molly had been up off the sofa, down the hallway and into Sherlock's bedroom in a flash. But now as she watched him thrashing about wildly, his face contorted, teeth bared, sweat beading his brow, his hands clutching his head, looking as though he was trying to pull it from his shoulder's she was at a loss as to what to do.

"Sherlock! Wake up! Sherlock! Please, you need to wake up!" she called out as she attempted to pull his hands away from his head.

"Well, well, well if it isn't the great Sherlock Holmes," Moriarty sneered.

Sherlock began to struggle, but soon realised he was tied down too securely to escape. He was strapped down to a bed in what as far as he could tell from his current position was some sort of laboratory. Whatever was about to happen, he knew it wasn't going to be pleasant. But that didn't mean he was going to give in.

"Why have you brought me here?"

"You wanted answers about what we do at The MM Corp." Moriarty noted. "Well it's your lucky day Sherlock, because I've decided to give you unlimited access to our manufacturing techniques."

Sherlock's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "So give me the tour."

"Oh no dear boy," Moriarty grinned manically. "We've decided on a more hands on approach. You get to have a front row seat on the procedures we've been developing for our latest project. The third generation cyborg."

"Third generation?"

Moriarty became excited, clapping his hands enthusiastically. "Oh yes Sherlock, you'll like this one. First Generation was all machine, the Second Generation was half man half machine. While the Third Generation will be more man than machine." Moriarty's expression became serious, deadly so. "And you will be our guinea pig."

Sherlock fought with all his might, but his bonds held good.

Moriarty, with the help of Moran, held Sherlock's head in place as it too was strapped down. Sherlock's eyes widened when Moran leant over him an electric saw in his hand.

"You wont get away with this Moriarty."

"Yeah, we will Sherlock. You see the beauty of this situation is everyone believes you're dead. And even if they didn't, no one knows you're here."

Moriarty and Moran exchanged a look and a nod. Moran turned on the saw….

"Sherlock, you know you've tried every legal avenue to get the specifics of what they're proposing to do," John noted, stating the obvious.

"Then I guess I need to go down the illegal ones."

"I am not hearing this," Lestrade said as he headed out the door. "You're on your own with this one."

"Aren't I always…"

As soon as he entered his flat he knew something wasn't right.

The lamp was suddenly turned on to reveal James Moriarty sitting in his chair. "You know you really should learn to back off Sherlock."

"If you'd simply answer my questions I'll stop pestering you." Sherlock pointed out.

"But since you're so determined to get my attention," Moriarty continued.

Too late Sherlock realised there was another man behind him…

He woke up screaming, the pain was like nothing he had ever experienced…

His eyes blinked, but he couldn't move. Then the man who'd entered his glass cell flipped a switch in the back of his head, and he was almost overwhelmed by sensations and emotions.

"You better get your beauty sleep Sherlock," the other man said. "Tomorrow the real fun and games begin..."

A small female stood before him. She had long hair and big brown eyes.

"I'm Molly by the way."

"I'm Sherlock Holmes."

"Yes, I know…"

Molly, Moran and Moriarty's faces merged.

What did that signify?

Was she working for them?

Of course, obvious…

When Sherlock opened his eyes he found Molly leaning over him.

"You're one of them," he snarled, shoving her away from him. "You were party to what they did to me."

He got off the bed and headed for the sitting room.

Molly followed, her dazed brain still trying to work out what he was going on about.

Sherlock was putting on his long coat when she finally caught up with him.

"You knew what they did to me."

"I guessed," she replied shakily. "But I swear to you, I don't work for them."

He glared down at her. "Why should I believe you? You're nothing to me."

"Sherlock, please…" Molly tentatively reached out to him, but he turned away from her and headed for the door.

"I'm going out," he said. "When I return I want to find you gone."

Only when she'd heard the front door slam shut did Molly slump to the floor and burst into tears.


	6. Running Scared

221B BAKER STREET

Eventually Molly pulled herself together. Sherlock had made his position very clear and she feared what he would do if he found her still here when he returned. An angry alpha male was dangerous enough. Add cybernetic enhancements and anything was possible, as had already been shown with the second-generation cyborgs.

She got to her feet and headed for the door. She paused, turned back and picked up a pad and pen from the table, quickly writing a note before placing it behind the skull on the mantelpiece.

Only then did she leave the flat.

THE STREETS OF LONDON

Molly was several blocks away from Baker St. when she realised that she hadn't taken her suppressant that morning.

She reached for her bag…

"No, no, no," she moaned. She'd been so distraught due to the morning's events that she'd forgotten to take her bag with her.

When she'd been given the suppressants she'd been told that to be effective they 'had' to be taken every morning.

What set alphas, betas and omegas apart was their status biology. Simply put, the pheromones they released told others their orientation (alpha, beta or omega) and also if they were in heat or bonded.

The suppressants changed Molly's status biology from omega to beta. But to miss taking even one suppressant meant that her beta status would quickly fade. Not only that her bodies omega pheromones would go into overdrive, making her scent far stronger than usual.

So she might as well be lit up like a Christmas tree with a big flashing light with an arrow pointing at her that read OMEGA HERE – COME AND GET HER!

"Well, well, well what do we scent here?"

Startled Molly whipped around and her eyes widened with fear. She was in trouble, big, big, big trouble.

Standing behind her were three cyborgs.

Molly ran.

221B BAKER STREET

He knew before he entered his flat that she was no longer there.

Why would she be?

He'd told her to go.

It didn't help that Sherlock had known even as he'd allowed those damming words out of his mouth that they weren't true.

He'd been angry, confused and scared, remembering what had been done to him. So he'd lashed out at the only person available – Molly.

Walking the familiar streets of London had helped clear his mind, leaving him better able to review the unsettling images from his nightmare.

By the time he'd reached the smouldering remains that had been New Scotland Yard, he'd realised what a terrible mess he'd made of the whole situation. In his mind he could still see Molly, confused and distressed as she tried desperately to get him to listen to her.

But he'd refused.

He'd rushed back to Baker St. in the hope that she would still be there.

'But why would she stay for a man who had been so cruel to her?'

As he gazed around the empty flat he spotted something placed behind the skull on the mantelpiece. Walking over he saw it was a note. It read:

Sherlock  
I know I should have told you what I'd suspected had been done to you. But I didn't know how. Please forgive me.  
Molly

Sherlock Holmes, the man who'd always derided any form of sentiment allowed the emotions that were part of his cyborg programming free rein.

As tears flowed freely down his cheeks and an aching pain centred in the region of the heart he always claimed he didn't possess, his analytical mind registered 'So this is what remorse feels like.'

Moving away from the fireplace Sherlock spotted Molly's bag.

He bolted out the door. He had to get to his Molly fast.

DOWN A DEAD END

If Molly believed her day couldn't get any worse, she was quickly proved wrong.

Being small and slight she'd managed to keep ahead of her pursuers. But in her panic she'd taken a wrong turn that saw her go down a dead end.

Turning round she saw the cyborgs walking three abreast towards her.

She was trapped, and the cyborgs knew it.

"What d'ya say boys?" the leader of the group asked his companions. "Ready to have some fun."

It didn't take Sherlock long to track Molly, her sweet and alluring omega scent filled his nostrils, calling to him.

When he heard her scream, his blood ran cold.

And when he saw the three brutes and what they were doing to his little omega, he saw red.

They had Molly pinned up against a wall, her clothes in tatters on the ground at their feet.

As soon as they had hold of her she had fought them tooth and nail literally. She'd kicked, punched, scratched, bitten and spat.

Her ferocity had initially taken them by surprise. As a result she'd managed to get a few good punches to their groins before they'd finally overpowered her.

But she kept on fighting. It was either that or give up and give in, and she refused to do either.

Quite where her fighting spirit had come from she wasn't sure. As an omega she was therefore submissive by nature. She could only assume it was a consequence of taking the suppressants. And for that she could only be grateful.

But once the cyborgs had the upper hand they immediately tore her clothes from her body, turned her to face the wall before slamming her up against it.

One held her in place one her left, the other on her right, while the third stripped off his clothes and prepared to enter her.

With her mind unwilling, her body refused to prepare itself for intercourse. This was a mating she did not want.

Molly knew it was going to hurt, and being as tense as she was knew that it would increase the likelihood that she would sustain internal injuries.

She wished with all her heart that Sherlock would come and rescue her. But she knew it was a forlorn hope, he despised her.

So she closed her eyes as she waited for the inevitable and prayed that it would be over soon. Then she could crawl away and find somewhere that she could curl up in a tight little ball and hope that death found her quickly.

Without warning she was released and her legs buckled under her with relief.

They were bigger than him, yes. And even with his cybernetic enhancements each on their own was stronger than him, let alone three against one.

But while they acted out of anger, hatred and a need to destroy, Sherlock was reacting to something far more powerful.

Because Sherlock Holmes had discovered that he did indeed have a heart, and it beat solely for one petite little omega with big brown eyes.

As the third cyborg hit the ground, Sherlock pointed to Molly and snarled. "She's my omega. Mine!"

He then turned and strode purposefully towards her.

Molly didn't hesitate she got to her feet and launched herself into Sherlock's waiting arms.


	7. Information Gathering

THE UN BASE

Mycroft observed the alpha and beta males before him. He knew without they're saying a word what they wanted to know.

What they needed to know.

Was Sherlock alive?

"I don't know," he replied to their unasked question.

"But you do know something," John pressed him.

Mycroft tapped his umbrella on the floor a couple of times before replying to the former army doctor. "Possibly," he murmured.

"What the bloody hell does that mean?" Lestrade demanded.

Mycroft Holmes had always been a frustrating SOB to deal with. Lestrade was a Police Detective, he preferred straight talking not political doublespeak.

"Is Sherlock alive or isn't he?"

"There is a chance, yes." Mycroft finally admitted. "But I fear that the odds are slim."

John took a threatening step forward. "What are you not telling us?"

"So help me God Mycroft, if you don't spit out all you know in the next five seconds I will make you wish you were never born," Lestrade added for emphasis.

Mycroft raised a bemused eyebrow. "There's no need to resort to threats," he said in his most placating tone.

"Then tell us what we want to know," John said through gritted teeth, his hands clenching into fists.

Carefully Mycroft reached into the inside pocked of his coat and withdrew a folded manila file. He opened it and showed the contents to the two men.

"As you can see Sherlock appears to have got himself into a bit of bother."

John took one of the photos from the file. It showed an unconscious Sherlock being manhandled by two men into a car outside his flat in Baker St.

He frowned as he looked more closely at the other men. He glanced over at Mycroft "I know them don't I?"

Lestrade grabbed another photo from the file. "I'll be damned," he said. "So they weren't killed when their main factory was hit."

"Apparently not," Mycroft agreed.

Mycroft's phone went off, alerting him that he'd received a text message.

A message he quickly read before putting his phone away.

"Anything you wish to share?" John queried.

"A matter that requires my immediate attention. Now…"

"Hang on a minute," Lestrade interrupted him. "How the hell are you able to get reception on your phone? All the towers are down."

"A perk of working for the government Lestrade. If order is ever to be restored, some of us have to have the ways and means to ensure it."

John intercepted Lestrade who was about to punch the government representative. He had his own questions that needed answering. After that Lestrade was more than welcome to punch Mycroft as many times as he liked.

"What pray tell is more important than finding your brother and the two men who are responsible for the current situation we're in?"

Mycroft calmly looked at them with his usual disdain. "You see only a small part of the picture John. There is more to this than the actions of James Moriarty and Sebastian Moran. As that is the part that has the more obvious motivation for you, I will leave this file with all the information that has so far been gathered in the hope that you and the rest of the network will be able to uncover a way to bring these rogue cyborgs under control."

Their discussion was interrupted by a discreet knock on the door. John's mate Mary entered, followed by Mycroft's PA, Anthea.

"I do hope you received a better reception than I did?" Mycroft said by way of greeting.

Anthea smiled. "Much better."

Pleasantries over Mycroft was once again all business. He turned back to John and Lestrade, "Use the resources that I have given you and the invaluable tool that you have at your disposal, and there is a chance that we may be able to bring this whole retched business to an end."

"Our tool?" Lestrade queried.

Mycroft looked from one man to the other in disbelief. "Did Sherlock never tell you?"

"Tell us what?" John asked impatiently.

A smug smile settled on Mycroft's lips. "The Woman," he said by way of explanation.

"What of her?"

"She was Sherlock's 'inside man' at The MM Corp. It was she who raised concerns with him about the production of the second generation cyborgs."

"Now hang on a minute," Lestrade interjected, clearly having difficulty believing what he was hearing. "You're telling me Irene Adler works for Moriarty and Moran?"

"She did, very high up in the organization as I understand it."

"Sir, we need to leave now," Anthea noted.

Mycroft checked his watch and nodded in agreement.

"So," John said. "You can't tell us anything about what you're working on?"

"Sadly no," Mycroft replied, sounding anything but. He glanced over to Mary a moment before continuing. "Though I would like to borrow your mate. Her former training may prove invaluable."

John and Mary exchanged a look. Both knew it wasn't a request. Mary shrugged her shoulders, smiled and nodded. John knew better than to argue the point with her.

He turned back to Mycroft, a dangerous edge in his voice. "Fine. But you better make sure that she returns alive and in one piece."

"I will endeavour to do so," Mycroft replied.


	8. Mine!

DEAD END

Sherlock wrapped his coat securely around Molly's naked body. Holding her close he turned back the way he'd come and headed back to the relative safety of Baker Street, moving as quickly as he dared with the precious load he carried in his arms.

221B BAKER STREET

Once indoors Sherlock locked and barred the front door before he swept Molly back into his arms and strode up the stairs to his flat, slamming the door shut behind him with his foot as soon as he cleared the threshold.

He carried her down the hall and into the bathroom, placing her carefully on the vanity unit. Turning the tap he was relieved when water continued to flow. He wet a flannel then began to gently wash the grime from her skin.

He used the time to try and put some order to his chaotic thoughts. Since he'd encountered the cyborgs attacking Molly his brain had erupted with a dizzying array of thoughts and feelings, all of which had revolved around the little omega.

His omega.

He remembered his words as the final cyborg went down.

"She's my omega."

Emotions were new to him. In the past he'd always distanced himself from all notions of sentiment, preferring instead cold clinical deductive reasoning and logic. It had allowed him to stand apart from the suffocating, cloying and messy business of emotions. To him love, affection and passion were unnecessary distractions.

Then Moriarty and Moran had literally flipped a switch in his brain that had caused all that he'd held back of his alpha nature to pour freely through him.

As he finished cleaning Molly his nose twitched and he inhaled deeply. His nostrils flared as they were filled with an intoxicating scent, a musky mix of honey and cinnamon. His mouth began to water and his trousers became painfully tight.

Their eyes met, his narrowed and intent, hers wide and wanting.

Molly was trembling uncontrollably, but not with fear. She'd just gone into heat.

Sherlock's protective instincts became something far more primal. His lips pulled back baring his teeth, his breathing pattern increased and a flash of gold mixed with the blue-green of his eyes.

"Mine!" he panted, as he picked Molly up and headed to his bedroom.

Molly was in the thrall to her raging hormones never had she felt anything so intense. Though to be fair this was her first heat. She felt like she was on fire, she burned and ached to be filled and marked by an alpha. But not any alpha, the only one Molly would allow having her, the only one her body told her could truly satisfy her was currently carrying her in his strong, protective embrace.

Sherlock placed her on the edge of his bed and then stepped back to remove his coat and jacket, before he sank down on his knees to the floor where he lifted her legs and placed them over his shoulders as he lunged down to lap eagerly at her soaking, swollen cunt.

The sensation of his tongue sweeping over and through her wet folds had Molly's eyes rolling in the back of her head. When he enthusiastically sucked on her sensitive nub while he inserted first one, then two talented fingers that he used to probe her inner depths, Molly threw her head back coming hard, her legs locked around his neck, her upper body bowed back as she clutched fistfuls of his curly black hair.

No sooner had her orgasm ended than Sherlock stood to quickly remove the rest of his clothes, before he lifted and flipped her over to place her on her hands and knees.

Instinctively she widened her stance and lowered her head in submission.

Sherlock stood at the side of the bed and positioned himself at her dripping entrance. His hands pulled her buttocks back towards him. Taking himself in hand he entered her.

To immediately freeze.

As an alpha his cock was longer and wider than that of other males. He'd expected her to be tight and to meet some resistance, but he could tell by her reaction that something wasn't right.

What had he missed?

"Molly…?" he asked through gritted teeth, the need to plunge deeper into her almost overwhelming him.

Molly took a deep breath before raising her head and turning to look at him over her shoulder, her expressive eyes telling him all. Yet he needed to hear her say it.

"You mean…" he swallowed, using every bit of control he could muster to prevent his body's desperate drive that was urging him to fulfil its natural instinct. "You've never…? Ever…?"

She shook her head. "No," she finally confessed. "You're my first."

Sherlock closed his eyes and let out the breath he'd been holding. Part of him was elated. He was the only one she'd taken as a lover. He wanted to howl with triumph at the thought that she was his, and his alone.

The other part of him was terrified. She was a virgin, and for an omega she was small. He was a lot bigger than her, and an alpha. That alone would require him to take care, for it was an alphas duty and privilege to take care of his omega. Sex between the two had the potential to get rough. But on no account was an alpha to harm an omega. The fact that he now possessed cybernetic enhancements was of the gravest concern to him. Would he turn into those thugs he'd saved her from?

The risk was minimal given the fact that the second-generation cyborgs had purposefully been created sterile, and it was that modification that had been the trigger for their violent actions towards the innocent omegas.

So far there was no indication that he was sterile. That would have invalidated Moriarty and Moran's delight in activating emotions within him.

'But did he dare risk the possibility he could brutalise Molly, even if unintendedly?'

Logic was quickly overcoming his primitive alpha nature. But when he made to withdraw, Molly stopped him.

"Don't," she whispered. "Stay."

"You don't know what you're inviting," he ground out. "I'm a cyborg. The damage I could inflict on you…"

"You wont."

"How can you be so certain?"

She raised her eyes to meet his. "Because I trust you."

When he opened his mouth to object she shook her head.

"You are nothing like those that attacked me," she said. "From the moment I saw you captive in that glass cell I felt that we were connected somehow. You told that cyborg I was yours. And I am, as you are mine."

Sherlock gazed at Molly in growing wonder.

"Stop thinking and rationalising Sherlock, and instead feel. Feel what is between us and let it happen. You know we both want it and need it. So lets take what we want and we'll deal with the consequences later."

'She was a special one, his omega." Sherlock thought as he took a deep, calming breath and allowed his alpha free rein once again.

Taking a firm hold of Molly's hips he eased part way out before sliding back inside her. Having broken through her maiden barrier with his initial thrust he was careful not to cause her anymore discomfort. The exquisite feeling at her acceptance of his penetration into her body as her internal muscles enclosed tightly around his cock made him shudder in ecstasy. He leaned over her and moved his hands to cup her breasts that fit his palms perfectly.

His hips began to pump with ever increasing urgency as his knot at the base of his cock started to swell as her inner walls vibrated around him. He slammed into her again and again his thrusts becoming more forceful as his knot finally locked them together.

At that moment Molly who'd been completely submissive began to resist, as was the way of omegas. Her emotions were a mixture of willing submission and a refusal to be mastered. It was up to Sherlock to show her that he was the dominant one and to prove to her that he was an alpha worthy of her.

He reached with one hand to grasp her head and turn it so that her throat was exposed to him.

Immediately Molly's struggles ceased. She remained motionless, her breathing erratic as she waited.

Sherlock leaned forward, his nose nuzzling her throat before he bared his teeth and sank them into her willing flesh. As soon as her sweet tasting blood rushed into his mouth he lapped at the wound to seal it with his saliva.

"Mine!" he roared as Molly's body began pulsing around his cock as she climaxed. Sherlock's body moved frantically as he neared his own release, giving a shout as he ejaculated his seed into her welcoming body.

Molly collapsed exhausted and sated onto the bed.

Sherlock his feet still on the floor immediately braced his arms so that they locked, his palms pressed against the bedclothes so as to not fall and crush Molly, his bonded mate.

The position pushed his lower body further into her, causing him to experience the first in a series of smaller orgasms that would ripple through his body over the hour or so that they would remain locked together.

With great care Sherlock manoeuvred them both so that they lay on their sides on the bed.

Once his knot had eventually eased and they'd been able to separate, Sherlock and Molly finally got under the covers.

They lay facing each other, foreheads touching as they gazed into each other's eyes.

Sherlock took Molly's face in his hands as he leaned forward to press tender kisses on her forehead, cheeks, nose and lips. He then turned her head to check that his bite had healed, after which he placed a reverent kiss upon the mark that proclaimed to all that she was taken. She was his.

Molly ran her fingers through his unruly curls before pulling him close and snuggling into his warmth, a contented smile on her lips.

Sherlock gently ran his hand up and down her spine, lulling her to sleep. He fought to keep his own eyes open, there was still so much he had to figure out. But as she had when they were making their way to London, Molly's presence and touch calmed and relaxed him. And so he finally allowed himself to drift into a peaceful, restful sleep.


	9. Processing

221B BAKER STREET

Sherlock lay awake in the early hours of the morning. He'd slept peacefully no nightmares had haunted his dreams, his mind for once completely silent.

The silence was a unique experience for him. Usually his mind was constantly active, completely driven, completely fixed on the endgame. He craved the adrenalin rush it gave him, solving a case was by far the best high. Drugs were a poor substitute, but they did help when boredom overtook him, as it did from time to time.

In the past he would have done anything to avoid the sensation of being at peace. In truth it was something he had always feared, perhaps because he knew what would take its place.

His true alpha nature…

And yet, now as he looked down at the petite woman snuggled securely against him, his mate, he realised that there had been nothing to fear. He hadn't lost anything by letting sentiment in. The complete opposite was true he had gained so much more by letting his heart and body rule his head.

No, what was of more concern to Sherlock was what was behind these new feelings. Were they a result of what Moriarty and Moran had done to him? Or was it Molly?

He sincerely hoped it was the latter rather than the former. But how was he to know for certain? He needed answers.

These concerns vanished when he felt once again the calming presence that Molly offered. It had started while they made their way to London. Now that they were bonded, he was even more aware of her calming influence.

He took a deep breath and inhaled the sweet, intoxicating scent of his mate and let it wash over him.

He felt more relaxed almost instantly. But he soon became aware that something felt out of place. When he tried to verify what it was, the more illusive it proved to be.

Sherlock frowned. There was no sign that Molly was trying to hide anything from him. On the contrary, now that they were mated she felt secure enough to share with him all that he wanted to know about her.

It was like there was a gap, a whole chunk of her life that she had either forgotten, or that she had no memory of. And if that were the case, why.

What had been done to his sweet-natured little omega?

Before he could delve any further into these troubling thoughts, he found himself distracted when he felt Molly's fingers innocently walking there way over his chest and abdomen, before moving further down.

He grabbed hold of her hand, turning to position himself above her. "What do you think you're up to?" he growled low, smirking with satisfaction when he saw her shiver in response.

But it didn't stop Molly fluttering innocent eyelashes over mischievous eyes.

"Me?" she queried with a knowing grin as she glanced down between their bodies and the prominent erection he was currently sporting.

In the blink of an eye Sherlock had her legs spread wide, slipping his aching cock deeply within her welcoming folds. As he began to move his hips in a blistering rhythm, he took hold of both her hands and held them firmly above her head.

With eyes that glinted feverishly with intensity, his breath coming in short, rapid pants, he ground out raggedly. "Ready for round two?"

"For you, always," she gasped eagerly.

THE MM CORP HEADQUARTERS

"All right everyone, spread out," Lestrade barked out his orders as soon as they entered the ruins of The Moriarty Moran Corporation Headquarters.

They had managed to get to the building without incident. John prayed their luck would hold long enough for them to find some information they could use to bring this whole terrible situation to an end.

"Anderson, Donovan," Lestrade bellowed. "Head over to the manufacturing section. See if you can find anything there." He then turned to Stamford, Kitty and Janine. "See what you can find in the research facility on the next floor."

As everyone prepared to make a move John reminded all of them. "Be careful everyone. We don't know how stable this building is, so mind your step. And stay alert we've been lucky so far not to be detected by the cyborgs. Lets keep it that way, yeah."

Lestrade and John now turned to Irene Adler. "Any idea where they kept the really sensitive information?" John asked.

"As a matter of fact I believe I do," she replied.

"After you," Lestrade said as he indicated with a tilt of his head that she should lead the way.

ON THE OUTSKIRTS OF LONDON

Two cloaked and hooded figures made their way cautiously along the deserted road.

They both paused when the familiar silhouette of the city of London came into view.

Sebastian Moran turned to his companion, his expression a mixture of determination and trepidation.

He knew why Moriarty was willing to take the risk to return to London. Sherlock Holmes had destroyed all of his plans and had ruined the reputation he'd been so carefully cultivating.

That was a blow his ego would not accept. Using the world's only consulting detective as a guinea pig for his latest cybernetic incarnation had been a stroke of pure genius. But now even that had been snatched away from him, by a slip of a girl of no importance.

In an attempt to regain control he was prepared to return to the one place where he and Moran shouldn't go if they valued their lives.

"You're certain he'll be there?" Moran queried, not wholly convinced or happy with Moriarty's decision.

"Where else would he go?" came the confident reply. "Its where he believes he is strongest."

"It wasn't the last time he was there. And he's no longer the man he used to be," Moran pointed out.

Moriarty turned, an inhuman grin spreading across his face. "No by God he isn't. But for all that I have no doubt he'll return to what's most familiar."

"If it's still standing."

They were just turning into Baker Street when Moriarty received a text. His expression became hopeful when he saw who the message was from.

"The spiders web is still active," he said as he scanned the message.

It was soon apparent that the news he'd received wasn't to his liking, his expression becoming as stormy as the sky above them.

"What is it?" Moran asked, a prolonged silence on the part of his partner-in-crime never a good sign.

"Damn them!" Moriarty exploded.

"Them? Who?"

"The underground network is currently conducting a raid on our headquarters."

Moran let out the breath he'd been holding, not understanding Moriarty's sudden anxiety.

"There's no need to worry," he tried to reassure his friend. "They wont be able to find anything."

But Moriarty had already changed direction and had broken into a run.

Moran took off after him. "What's wrong? Jim, what's going on?"

Moriarty paused, turning to Moran. "She's with them. The Woman."

"Shit!"

NEAR THE HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT

"How can you be certain he'll come here?" Mary asked.

"Oh he'll come Mrs Watson, of that you can be sure," Mycroft replied confidently.

"Well I hope he comes soon," Mary grumbled, not happy that they were outside and far too exposed for her liking.

"Our contacts advise us that he is on his way as we speak," Anthea reassured her.

"Anthea and I will follow him in once he arrives and attempt to question him. Regardless of our success or failure, if you feel you have the shot, take him out."

Mary rechecked the sight on her riffle. "It will be my pleasure," she assured him.

At that moment a tall figure emerged through the shadows and made his way stealthily to the entrance of the building, and entered.

Mycroft, Anthea and Mary silently followed.

Mary held back as they entered the houses of parliament. All three exchanged looks, it was now or never.

With a nod of the head to the former assassin, Mycroft and Anthea followed their prey.


	10. An Exercise in Frustration

NEAR THE MM CORP HQ

Lestrade had instructed Wiggins and Tom to keep watch outside and to alert him if there was any trouble. They were supposed to be stationed close to The MM Corp building, but they weren't.

They were now watching from a vantage point just around the corner. From there they were offered a far better view and would be able to easily identify those that they were waiting for.

Tom glanced down at his phone and frowned. "They're taking their bloody time," he noted impatiently.

Wiggins shrugged nonchalantly. "They'll be here soon enough."

"Well they'd better," Tom responded. "I'm feeling a little too exposed here."

INSIDE THE MM CORP HQ

"Damn it!" Lestrade bellowed as he picked up a broken chair and smashed it against the nearest wall.

As with the rest of the building, the offices of James Moriarty and Sebastian Moran had been completely trashed.

The MM Corp had been the initial focal point of the second-generation cyborgs rage. This being the place where they had been created, and their fate sealed. And so they had decided that it was here that Moriarty and Moran would meet their fate.

But the two men had managed to escape, so the cyborgs turned their anger and frustration on the building itself.

"It will be here," Irene tried to reassure them. "It has to be."

"Unless they took it with them," John pointed out. He made his way over to Lestrade and said under his breath. "Assuming there was anything to find here in the first place."

Lestrade glanced over at Irene who was still frantically looking for the information they so desperately sought.

"You think she's lying?" he asked.

"Well she has been keeping things from us. Like the fact that she worked for Moriarty and Moran."

"But Mycroft claimed that she was Sherlock's 'inside man'."

"Yeah, and now he's missing, presumed dead," John reminded him.

"So what do you suggest we do?"

"Tread carefully."

From outside coming from somewhere down the street, but getting closer was the unmistakeable sound of a mob of angry cyborgs.

APPROACHING THE MM CORP

As luck would have it the former headquarters were not their target.

But Moriarty and Moran were.

In his haste to get back to the remains of his company, Moriarty had rushed headlong towards his destination with no consideration for his personal safety.

And that had proved to be a costly mistake.

When Moriarty tore off in the direction of the ruins of his company headquarters his only thought was that he had to get to the information that he still had stored there.

At the time that he and Moran had been forced to flee, he was confident that the safest place for these documents was for them to remain exactly where they were.

Yes the cyborgs were determined to destroy everything, and everyone they associated with their creation. But Moriarty knew enough of their genetic makeup to feel certain that their fury would not be directed at their actual design.

Had they been they would have realised that this information was far more important and of practical use to them.

But as soon as Moriarty knew that The Woman was one of those that were currently searching the building, he knew he had to get there quickly and get the information before she found it.

Had he known when he had started work on the second generation the magnitude of their reaction should they ever discover that they were sterile he might have been more careful with his designs. He might have worked harder on the documents that possibly held the key that would have made the whole need for a solution completely unnecessary

But he was a businessman through and through. All he cared about was making a quick buck.

Yet it wasn't this document that caused him to drop his disguise and run as fast as his legs could carry him into danger.

There was another that had even wider implications.

"Jim! Stop! Turn back! Run!" Moran screamed.

Snapped out of his frantic thoughts, Moriarty glanced up to realise two things.

He was approaching his destination.

And there was a large gang of cyborgs heading straight for him.

He had a decision to make. What was more important, the documents or his life?

Moriarty immediately changed direction and ran for his life.

OUTSIDE THE MM CORP HQ

Wiggins and Tom had doubled back to the relative safety of The MM Corp entrance. They watched Moriarty and Moran running with cyborgs right on their heels.

"They're done for and no mistake," Tom noted.

"Shouldn't we try, I don't know, help em?" Wiggins suggested.

Before Tom could answer he received a text message. Reading it, a smile spread across his face.

"Good news?" Wiggins asked.

"The best," Tom replied smugly. Glancing briefly at the distant figures of Moriarty and Moran, he then turned to his companion. "Forget them," he said raising his phone. "We've just been made a better offer."

But as Tom made to leave, Wiggins hesitated.

"Well, are you coming?" Tom asked becoming impatient.

Wiggins looked down the street then back to the building. He stepped back, decision made. "Nah mate, I think I'll stay here," he said heading indoors.

Tom shook his head partly in surprise and partly in disappointment. "Your choice my friend," he called out. "But I prefer to be on the winning side."

And without a backward glance he left.

THE HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT

He sat there completely at ease. He didn't sit in the seat allocated to the Prime Minister. Instead he chose the one that overlooked all. The chair where sat the one person who had power over all, whether they be in government or opposition.

The Speaker of the House.

Such an apt position for a man who saw himself as the one who commanded the power of words. The man who used them to his advantage no matter their form.

Money was nothing to him. Power was everything. Words were his currency. Words were his to control. With the words he had currently in his possession he believed they would give him mastery over not only this country, but also every country on this little blue planet.

"Come, come. No need to stay hidden in the shadows. Tell me how we are positioned?"

"Not as well as you'd planned I'm afraid," Mycroft stated as he and Anthea entered the House of Commons.

"My supporters will be here shortly."

"If you're referring to," Mycroft threw him a mobile phone. On the screen was video footage showing the form of an unconscious, possibly dead Tom. "I'm afraid he never got the opportunity to call up reinforcements."

Mycroft took a seat in the Prime Minister's chair and turned to his adversary.

"I believe Magnussen that you and I need to have a little chat."


	11. Seeking Answers

OUTSIDE 221B BAKER STREET

Sherlock stepped out on to the street. He turned left then right making sure that the coast was clear. Satisfied he reached out his hand towards the open door. Molly immediately took hold of his offered hand as she joined him.

"So where are we going?" she asked as Sherlock closed and locked the door.

"The Underground Network," he replied.

He led Molly down the street automatically altering his longer stride to accommodate her smaller stature.

"I can't contact them by phone as my mobile is missing. So we'll have to risk getting to their latest hideout on foot," he paused briefly before adding. "I just hope they haven't moved."

Molly could sense through their bond that Sherlock was clearly concerned about a number of things, the whereabouts of his mobile for one, but by far the strongest concern centred on her. She couldn't get an exact fix on what was causing his concern, but she got the feeling that Sherlock didn't know either. But it had him genuinely troubled.

So she sent him reassuring thoughts as she squeezed his hand.

He looked down at her briefly, a small smile touching his lips as he squeezed her hand in return.

They were several blocks away from Baker Street when they became aware that trouble was heading their way.

London was now virtually a ghost town. Those that were lucky enough to escape did so using any method they could.

Those that couldn't were caught up in the slaughter that was to follow, a slaughter that would be repeated throughout the country and around the world.

Those that choose to stay behind, like the underground network, did so knowing that the only way to survive was to stay out of sight and to make sure that you didn't stay in the same place for too long as that could lead to complacency.

Complacency could be the death of you. Literally.

As a consequence London's streets were all but deserted.

So when you heard the sound of a crowd moving towards you, it generally meant only one thing.

Trouble.

THE HOUSE OF COMMONS

Mycroft Holmes was used to getting what he wanted. He was used to other people virtually falling over themselves in their haste to get what he wanted done in a timely manner.

The only people who wouldn't were his parents, and his younger brother.

But that was blood for you.

So it was with some annoyance that Magnussen was proving just as difficult as his family, if not more so.

"If you are to be believed," he noted calmly. "You claim to have access to information that could potentially bring the current situation to an end."

Oozing confidence Magnussen responded, "Correct."

"But you refuse to hand over said information."

"Also correct." It was clear that the former newspaper magnate was enjoying making the minor government official work for every scrap of data he could get.

"May I ask why?" Mycroft queried casually, though in truth he was becoming more and more frustrated with the current stalemate.

"I am more than willing to give you the information that you require," Magnussen stated. "But before doing so, I have certain requirements that must be fulfilled."

"What you ask for is simply out of the question."

"Then the information will remain in my possession."

"God damn it man there are lives at stake," Mycroft snarled in a rare show of emotion.

"Precisely," came back the cool response.

Mycroft took a deep breath to get his emotions back under control.

"I know about the Appledore Archive," he stated, as he looked Magnussen right in the eye.

But Magnussen was unfazed. If Sherlock knew about them, then so of course did the brother. "Surely your little brother informed you where that archive is kept," he said as he tapped the side of his head. "I had no intention of giving him access, and the same goes for you. You know what I want Mycroft. Only that will bring an end to this bloody war."

"I cannot give you what you ask. It is simply not in my power."

"Oh I think we both know Mister Holmes that your statement is untrue. You are a living representative of the former government. As such you have the power in the time of greatest need to appoint someone to take control of all authorities in the country, including the government."

"I will not give you that power," Mycroft stated firmly.

"You don't have any other option.."

SOMEWHERE IN LONDON

'This way,' Sherlock directed through their bond as he quickly changed direction again to head down a dark alleyway.

About three quarters if the way down the alley Sherlock slowed his frantic pace and with his free hand he reached out until he found what he was searching for.

Molly was just registering the sound of a heavy door being opened as Sherlock pulled her through the doorway after him. He then shut the door and after a brief search located the bolt and slid it home locking them inside.

They were safe enough for now.

"What is this place?" Molly asked curiously.

"An old warehouse," Sherlock replied.

Molly lent up against the wall thankful to have something solid behind her as she caught her breath.

"That was close," she noted.

"Too close," Sherlock agreed.

They had encountered a large gang of cyborgs who were covered in blood and guts.

With so few people left in the city Sherlock was certain that the cyborgs were finding it harder to find anyone to take their anger out on.

Whoever their victims had been, killing them had only increased their blood lust.

Which was unlucky for him and Molly.

But Sherlock was discovering that there were certain advantages to the enhancements he'd been given.

Speed and strength to name but two.

As such he'd been able to give them a good heads start before the cyborgs were fully aware of their presence.

And then there was the added advantage that he knew every nook and cranny in London. They were a part of him, getting around this city was as natural to him as breathing.

No enhancements needed.

They had both just started to relax when they heard the sound of running feet.

But when Molly made to move further into the building, Sherlock shook his head and put his finger to his lips.

Molly nodded her understanding remaining where she was.

Sherlock walked quietly back to the door and pressed his ear up against it to listen.

"I told you it was a dead end. They must have slipped down another side street."

It was clear that not all agreed with this explanation, but with no others being put forward they were forced to reluctantly turn back the way they had come.

One of the other cyborgs tried to lift their spirits. "Well at least we finally got to deal with those that 'created' us."

Everyone agreed, but one did note. "A pity we didn't get them to reveal how to reverse what was done to us before we ended there miserable little lives."

"What makes you so certain they even knew how?" the first cyborg asked.

Their conversation filtered away as they left the alleyway.

Sherlock remained where he was for a moment. The cyborgs conversation had triggered something in him, but he couldn't quite latch on to it.

There was only one way to recapture the memory that was currently staying just out of reach.

"Sherlock, are you all right?" Molly asked, becoming concerned by the look that had come across his face. "What did you hear?"

"I'm fine," Sherlock reassured her as he moved away from the door and went and sat on the floor, his back braced against the wall. "I just need some time to think."

Molly watched in fascination as Sherlock pressed his hands together before placing them under his chin and shutting his eyes as he entered his Mind Palace.

"We should have prepared better," Moran said.

"There wasn't time," Moriarty retorted. "Or don't you remember?"

"Oh I remember. But that still doesn't mean that if we'd spent a little more time on research we could have prevented such a situation from happening in the first place."

Moriarty stopped what he was doing to gaze uncomprehendingly at his colleague. "When did you become such a bleeding heart?"

"Since we barely managed to escape with our lives."

Moriarty snorted down his nose dismissively. "That's the thing about hindsight. It can give you any number of possible outcomes about what you should, could or would have done. But it doesn't take into account what other factors drove you to the decision you ultimately made at the time. Cold, hard logic completely forgets the environment you were in at the time."

Moran knew what he said was true, but that still didn't alter the fact that they had jumped in feet first, money being their only true motivator.

"And anyway," Moriarty added. "If we had done the right thing then we wouldn't have got the opportunity to do this." He looked down grinning manically at their very much alert patient. "Would we Sherlock?"

Moran made no further comment, though his expression clearly showed that he didn't take the situation as casually as his partner.

Moriarty gave a dramatic sigh. "If it makes you feel any happier I actually did look into ways to fix the problem. I even did a costing to see how much more expensive it would be to produce cyborgs that were like alphas in every way."

"Yeah, but those plans are probably destroyed by now."

"Possibly. Possibly not, I put them…"

Sherlock's eyes snapped open and he scrambled to get to his feet.

"Sherlock, what is it? What's wrong?"

Sherlock walked over to Molly, took her face in his hands and kissed her soundly on the mouth. His eyes were wide and sparkling merrily, the expression on his face full of wonder and hope.

"Nothing is wrong love, in fact I think everything is going to be all right. But we have to get to The MM Corp Headquarters right now."

THE MM CORP HQ

The only reason Lestrade hadn't strangled The Woman yet was because John was forcibly holding him back.

"Nothing!" Lestrade roared. "We came here for nothing."

"They must be here somewhere," Irene argued.

"Where?" John demanded. "We've search everywhere and come up with nothing."

"I believe I might be able to help you there," noted a familiar baritone.


	12. Explanations, Deductions and the Future

THE MM CORP HQ

"Sherlock!" his friends and colleagues cried in equal measures of shock, surprise and relief.

All were eager to embrace him, whether he liked it or not, and to find out where he had been. But Sherlock knew that they needed to focus on what needed to be done. Explanations could come later or when absolutely necessary.

But before he could open his mouth Lestrade had spotted Molly who had purposefully stayed back to give Sherlock time with his friends.

"And who might you be?" Lestrade asked, his most winning smile on his face.

But as he walked towards her, he was surprised to find his path blocked by a possessive Sherlock.

"She's mine!" Sherlock snarled to reinforce the point.

Lestrade, John and Irene exchanged confused looks.

"You mean, she's your…" John was having difficulty getting his brain to process what his eyes and ears were telling him. "She's your…"

"My mate, yes," Sherlock snapped. "My bonded mate."

"But, how?" John spluttered.

Sherlock rolled his eyes; clearly he was going to have to state the obvious before they could move on to the task at hand.

"Really John, did they teach you nothing at medical school?"

John blushed scarlet.

Molly walked up to Sherlock and reached up to take his face in her hands and pulled him down so that she could place a whisper soft kiss upon his pouting lips.

She then turned to the other three people in the room. "I'm Molly Hooper, Sherlock's mate. At the moment that's all you need to know. But what you need to do right now is find the location of certain documents that I believe Sherlock knows where to find. So if we could deal with that first and then we'll be happy to answer any questions you may have."

"Of course," John acknowledged.

Sherlock felt immense pride for his little omega and her ability to get everyone back on the right path.

He leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before making his way over to a big, heavy bookcase.

When the cyborgs had initially trashed the building they had managed to upend the bookcase before destroying all the books and other items that were on the shelves.

But the actual bookcase they left untouched, possibly having found something else to vent their fury on.

Sherlock ran his fingers along the back of the top shelf before pressing against the wood to release a secret compartment.

It was empty.

"I've already checked there," Irene huffed impatiently.

Sherlock didn't appear the least bit disappointed by his discovery. Instead he turned to Irene and the others, and with a quizzical rise of one eyebrow proceeded to reveal another compartment hidden within the original.

He reached in to remove what lay within, a flash drive.

"How did you…?" Irene asked.

"For the moment all I will say is that Moriarty has a habit of saying aloud more than he should when he has a captive audience," Sherlock responded.

Realising they were going to get no further explanation for the time being John opened his bag and retrieved his notebook. Within minutes of inserting the flash drive they were looking at the documents that Moriarty didn't want anyone to know about.

"My God," John gasped, stunned.

"We should let Mycroft know about this," Lestrade said.

"Why?" Sherlock asked.

"Because it might be of use to him with what he's doing," Lestrade responded before he paused and frowned. "Though he didn't go into much detail about where he and Anthea were going. But whoever they were tracking they needed Mary."

This news intrigued the consulting detective. "Mycroft has gone off on a secret mission, himself?"

"With Anthea and Mary, yes," John replied.

Sherlock thought for a moment or two, before a grin brook out across his face. "Of course," he said more to himself than to the others.

He turned to Lestrade. "Is Wiggins still with the network?"

"Yes he is."

"Go and get him. I need to have a word with him.

"You're certain it was him?" Sherlock asked.

Wiggins nodded. "Positive," he replied.

"Will someone please explain what is going on?" complained an exasperated Lestrade.

"I got Wiggins to infiltrate Moriarty's Spiders Web. With Irene no longer a part of the corporation I needed to find a way to keep an eye on what he was up to. It was also a way to discover if there were any weak links in our own Underground Network. And if there was, how best we could exploit it."

"And was there a weak link?" John asked.

"Yes, but only the one, Tom. And he turned out to be far more devious than I ever gave him credit for."

"How so?"

"It appears Tom wasn't happy with two masters. He decided to go for the trifecta."

"And that was?" Irene enquired.

"The man that my brother was so intent on catching up with. Charles Augustus Magnussen."

"The newspaper guy?" Lestrade clarified.

"The very same," Sherlock responded. "Over the years Magnussen has amassed information on all sorts of people from around the world. He has gone on to use this information to further advance his organization, and to increase the number of avenues to gain even more information."

"So he's a blackmailer," said John.

"Not just any blackmailer John. He is the master blackmailer, in many ways he is by far the greatest adversary any of us are ever likely to face."

"In what way?"

"Give a man like that certain information, like that stored on the flash drive we just found, and he would use it to take control, absolute control."

"So does he have this information?" Irene asked.

Sherlock looked over at Wiggins who gave a brief shake of his head.

"Magnussen believes the information in his possession, supplied by Tom, will give him the power he requires. But Wiggins instigated Tom discovering information that has no real value, that he subsequently passed on to Magnussen."

Everyone let out sighs of relief.

"So Lestrade you were correct, I do need to contact my brother," but when he reached for the inside pocket of his jacket he remembered he'd lost his mobile. "Damn!"

"This what you're looking for?" John asked, handing him his mobile.

"How…?" Sherlock began.

"Later," John replied. "You need to phone Mycroft."

"I prefer to text," Sherlock said as he took back his mobile and immediately started typing. "And I'll require an explanation from you on how it is you know Molly," he stated glancing over at Irene.

THE HOUSE OF COMMONS

"The answer is still no," Mycroft said. He was beginning to grow weary with the repetitive nature of their argument. Though quite why he thought it would go any other way was beyond him.

Magnussen too was growing bored with the whole situation.

He'd always prided himself on knowing everyone's pressure points. Mycroft's was his younger brother.

"I hear Sherlock isn't the man he once was."

A pained expression briefly crossed the elder Holmes' features, before he once again regained control to show a neutral face. "The dead rarely are," he responded coolly.

Magnussen's eyes lit up and he began to chuckle, slapping the palm of his hand against his upper thigh enthusiastically.

Mycroft's eyes became steely as he observed the other man's antics. "And what, pray tell do you find so funny?" he enquired.

Magnussen now burst into a full fit of laughter. Eventually managing to get himself under enough control to make a reply. "The fact that you believe Sherlock to be dead."

Mycroft sat up even straighter. "If you're attempting to get what you want from me by using sentiment. I can assure you you've chosen the wrong person."

"Oh of that I am absolutely certain," Magnussen replied. "But it doesn't change the fact that he is very much alive," Magnussen paused, leaning forward in his chair. "My informants tell me Sherlock has been a patient of Moriarty and Moran."

"Patient?"

"Well, guinea pig would be a better description. They decided to use him as their test subject in their quest to make a better cyborg."

"And why would they do that? Why use Sherlock?" Mycroft asked doing his best to hide how uncomfortable this development, if true, made him feel.

"They were under the mistaken belief that Sherlock was responsible for the second generation discovering they were sterile. And they wanted revenge."

Understanding dawned on the minor government official. "It was you," he said. "That's why you headed off world. You were worried in case they traced it back to you."

"Yes," the newspaper magnate confirmed. "And yet in reality I had nothing to fear. If I'd realised how obsessed they were with your brother…"

At that moment Mycroft received a text alert.

Reading through the message Mycroft allowed a rare smile to play upon his lips. He put his phone away and looked Magnussen in the eye.

"I'm afraid Magnussen the usefulness you believe you have has just been made invalid." Turning his head slightly he instructed. "Mrs Watson, if you would be so kind."

Magnussen barely had time to register his surprise at the abrupt turn of events before Mary's well-aimed bullet struck him between the eyes and his body slumped over, dead.

Mycroft got up and walked over to the dead master blackmailer. He bent down to check the former assassins handiwork.

"A clean shot."

"You sound almost disappointed," Anthea noted as she joined him.

"Well if you'd wanted a bit more of a mess," Mary said as she made her way over to them, "you should have told me and I would have used hollow-pointed bullets."

"I'll try to remember that for next time," Mycroft responded dryly.

THE UN BASE

When they returned back to the base everyone was in the mood to celebrate.

Everyone that is, except Sherlock. He was more concerned with getting an explanation concerning a very personal matter.

He found himself a comfortable chair and sat down before pulling Molly down onto his lap and enclosing her in a protective embrace.

Only then did he turn his attention to The Woman.

"Now Irene I believe you owe us an explanation," he stated firmly. "You know Molly, don't you? I could tell as soon as you saw her you recognised her. Would you care to explain how?"

"Why don't you ask Molly?"

Everyone else gathered around, all were intrigued.

"Because she doesn't know," Sherlock responded. He turned to Molly and looked deeply into her eyes, before continuing softly. "Although I do believe she is beginning to remember a little."

Molly looked from Sherlock to Irene then back again, her brow furrowing as she concentrated on trying to remember.

Looking up to see a smiling Irene who offered her help.

Waking up feeling groggy in a warm bed.

Running through the streets with Irene. There are unknown assailants behind them.

Becoming separated.

On her own lost, confused and scared.

Sherlock pulled her closer and began pressing gentle kisses on her forehead, cheeks and lips.

It wasn't until she felt the saltiness of her own tears on his lips that she realised she was crying.

She turned pleading eyes to the female alpha. "Please," she whispered. "Please tell me what was done to me."

"And why," Sherlock added.

Irene watched them both for a moment before finally relenting, taking the chair opposite them. "All right," she agreed. "But be warned, it will be a lot to take in."

They both nodded their understanding.

Irene took a deep breath and then she began.

"When the production of the second generation cyborgs began the mandate was that it was imperative to produce as many as possible in a very short timeframe. Moriarty and Moran were experts with machines but they knew next to nothing about biology, and how to merge the two effectively. So they employed a number of experts in the field, some more ethical than others."

"Surely the government kept check to make sure that strict guidelines were adhered to?" John asked.

"Initially they did, yes. But as the situation became more desperate officials were convinced to turn a blind eye." Irene replied.

"The main issue that they had was the human side of the equation," she continued. "They were using injured or near dead alphas and betas. The cybernetic enhancements took quite a bit of adjusting with to get the balance right with their emotions. It was at this point that Moriarty made the decision to make them all sterile. Many of the alphas being used already were due to the side effects of using the suppressant."

"Far cheaper to produce carbon copies rather than individuals," Sherlock noted.

"Yes."

"All very interesting. But it doesn't explain how you know Molly."

"The cyborgs, despite the attempts to manage their emotions were clearly more aggressive than regular alpha and beta males, even before they became aware they were sterile," Irene explained. "I was becoming more and more concerned for the welfare of the omegas. They are by their very nature willing and submissive. It was clear that they were being treated brutally. I couldn't just stand back and do nothing."

"Didn't you raise your concerns with Moriarty and Moran?" Lestrade queried.

"Of course, but they weren't interested, they didn't see any profit in it. So I began to develop in secret my own cybernetic enhancements. But mine were aimed specifically at omega females."

Molly's whole body went rigid. She looked at Sherlock and then at Irene, shaking her head. "No," she whimpered.

"I found Molly collapsed exhausted at the entrance of The MM Corp. It seemed that fate had brought her to me just at the right time, as I needed to test the enhancements and she was strong and healthy, and had up until that time been able to escape the clutches of the cyborgs."

Molly looked stricken; she turned pleading eyes to Sherlock, silently begging him to bring Irene's explanations to an end.

But Sherlock knew he couldn't. What she was about to tell them was far too important to the both of them. So he pulled her in close until her head rested under his chin and he began to rub her back with soothing strokes as he nodded to The Woman to continue.

"My enhancements focussed on giving omegas extra agility and strength to help them cope better with the cyborgs. But they were going to need something more, they needed to be able to deal with the psychological stress as well. The cyborgs didn't just physically abuse them they verbally abused them as well," Irene paused directing her next words to Molly. "There was absolutely no way I was ever going to subject you to the jibes of the cyborgs. I needed you to become stronger emotionally as well as physically. To that end I knew I had the perfect non-cyborg candidate, the biting words of one Sherlock Holmes."

Molly gasped, while Sherlock looked uncomfortable. But his expression quickly turned to annoyance once the others in the room began to chuckle.

"Oh that's classic," John laughed, whipping tears out of his eyes.

"Yes," Irene agreed, she smiled as she looked fondly over at the dumbfounded consulting detective and his mate. "As it turns out it was a far more fortuitus piece of genius than I ever imagined it would be."

"What do you mean?" Molly asked, totally confused.

"If you hadn't already noticed Molly, Sherlock isn't the easiest person to get on with," John explained.

Molly frowned. "I haven't found him any more difficult to deal with than anyone else."

"Which is precisely the point," Sherlock responded, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Irene has fortified you against my somewhat sharp and impatient tongue."

"That's putting it mildly," Lestrade noted with a grin.

"So what happened?" Sherlock asked, steering the conversation back on topic.

"Before I could complete my tests Moriarty discovered what I was doing. He didn't like that I was working on something behind his back. Molly and I were forced to flee. But we became separated…"

There was a moment of silence as everyone digested everything they had just learned.

"These enhancements you designed, what affect would they have on an alpha male?" Sherlock asked.

Irene considered his question for a moment or two before replying. "On the emotional side virtually none," she said. "Alpha DNA works differently to that of omegas. If there were any affects at all I would say that their physical strength might be increased."

"So it wouldn't affect the alphas emotional state at all? You're absolutely positive?"

"Yes absolutely," Irene confirmed confidently. "Why do you ask?"

"I believe Moriarty and Moran somehow obtained a copy of your modifications and used them on me."

Irene looked a little taken aback, while the others were intrigued. "Why on earth would they do that? What did they hope to gain by it?"

Sherlock found himself unable to meet anyone's eye, not even Molly's. His cheeks were tinged with a touch of pink as he replied. "I believe their intention was for me to get in touch with my 'feminine side', to connect with those emotions that I have always been so disdainful of. Emotions I have always refused to act upon."

Molly sensing the underlining fear he was feeling wrapped her arms around him and began murmuring comforting, soothing words into his ear.

John may never have been as observant as his friend, but he had a lot more experience when it came to emotions. "What is it you're really afraid of Sherlock?" he asked.

Sherlock took a minute or two to compose himself. He reluctantly pulled out of Molly's embrace before making his reply, his gaze never wavering from his mate. "What if…" he began. "What if the way I've been feeling lately is only due to what Moriarty and Moran did to me?"

Of all the responses he expected, laughter was not one of them. But that was what he received, from Irene at least.

"I'm serious," he snapped testily.

"I know," Irene replied once she's recovered herself. "Have you not been listening to what I've been telling you? My enhancements were for omega females. Your alpha genetic makeup would have completely overwhelmed any attempts to change who you are emotionally." The Woman shook her head looking affectionately over at the bonded couple. "The only reason you feel the way you do is because Molly is the one you were always meant to be with. You wouldn't have felt the need to bond with her otherwise," she assured him.

Sherlock felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He kissed Molly passionately on the lips. "Mine!" he proclaimed roughly, his expression and the emotional link between them letting her know how much more he wanted to do if they were alone.

Molly blushed prettily, but she giggled happily as she leant forward to return his kiss. "Yours," she agreed.

"What this document proposes leaves me feeling uneasy," Mycroft admitted.

"Anything that involves reproduction always makes you uneasy, blood," Sherlock noted dryly.

Mycroft glared at his younger brother. He'd been informed of what had been done to Sherlock. And from what he'd so far observed The Woman's assessment of the affects on him were proving to be correct.

But as to what was being considered based on the information in The MM Corp documents that was a completely different matter entirely.

"And how exactly does allowing these cyborgs to procreate help our present situation?" he demanded. "Haven't they caused enough death and destruction without giving them more ammunition in the form of their progeny?"

"But they wouldn't," Sherlock argued. "This whole war began because they were denied the right to inseminate omegas. If we were able to find a way to reverse it and to find a way to rein in their emotions, possibly with a few modifications to what Irene had been working on for the omegas, there is a more than reasonable chance that they could be reintegrated back into the general population."

Mycroft shook his head adamantly. "There are simply too many variables," he said. "Its far too risky. That and the fact that there is no guarantee that it would even work."

"Oh I wouldn't say that," John interjected. He and Mike Stamford had been going through the documents. "I'm not saying that there is a quick fix to this situation. But I do believe from what I've read so far that there is reason to be hopeful of an eventual solution."

"There is also something else you've failed to consider," Sherlock added.

Mycroft raised an enquiring eyebrow. "And that is?"

"That this may be the only way to increase the alpha population."

"You believe its possible?"

"Oh I know it's entirely possible," Sherlock said with a self-satisfied smirk as he made his way over to Molly, enclosing her in a loving embrace. "That process has already begun."

Molly leaned back against her mate, a beaming smile on her face as she and Sherlock, their fingers entwined as their hands rested over where nestled their unborn child.

"You're certain Molly's pregnant?" John queried, clearly as astonished as everyone else about the consulting detectives announcement.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Honestly John where did you get your medical degree? Surely you're aware that an alphas sense of smell is more sensitive than that of a beta male. I can tell by the change in Molly's scent that she is indeed pregnant."

John blushed. "Its just… we didn't think that you'd…"

"What?" Sherlock snapped impatiently.

John looked to the others then shrugged. "Never mind."

Everyone surrounded the happy couple offering their heart-felt congratulations.

"Well that's one problem that has found a possible solution," Sherlock stated before turning to Mycroft to add playfully. "Now all we need to do is to find someone to run the country. And I think I know of the perfect candidate."

Mycroft refused to rise to the bait, for now at least.


End file.
